


House on Fire

by itsthedetails



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: AU - Invincible, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-26
Updated: 2009-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthedetails/pseuds/itsthedetails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The strike's been dragging on for months and everybody is out of work. Who knew that unusual circumstances would lead Jensen onto the football field and into Jared's arms. AU of the movie Invincible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House on Fire

 

_"It's May 25th and the writers’ strike continues for the 184th day in a row, keeping the entertainment industry at a stifling halt. Despite the plea from the below the line workers affected by the strike, it continues to look like there is no end in sight. With the industry at a standstill and The Dow Jones down another 300 points today, many talented people are seeking employment elsewhere."_

Chris called out from his seat at the bar. "Turn that shit off! I'm tired of hearing the same crap every day. It never gets any better."

Jensen stared up at the downward pointing red arrows and sighed heavily before the bartender clicked the remote and switched the channel.

Jared slid onto the stool to Jensen's left and whispered, "What's up with him? He's even crankier than normal."

Quickly glancing over his shoulder at Chris, he lowered his voice. "He got final notice today that the pilot for that show about the thieves has been completely canned, even if everything gets settled tomorrow the show won't ever air."

Jared peeked at Chris out of the corner of his eye, looking sympathetic. "Dude, that sucks. I know he was excited about it. It sounded like an awesome pilot."

They sat in silence sipping their beers, all three thinking about the state of their careers.

Finally, Jared nudged Jensen's arm. "How are things at home with Danneel? She still on your case?"

He cringed; Jared was the only one he'd told about his ongoing problems with Danneel. It was bad enough no one was working, but she didn't seem to want to admit their lifestyle had to change with the lack of cash flow. They'd been fighting constantly about everything, but mostly they fought about money.

"It hasn't been good. We're barely speaking and when we do it's only to fight."

"Sorry, dude, I know you're trying to make the marriage work. Times like these just make everything more difficult, it sucks that she's being so stubborn."

Jensen swirled what was left of his beer in the bottom of his glass. "Yeah, hey, let's talk about something else. All the negative shit bums me out. Did you see the news last night? They finally fired the Mustangs coach. With their losing record, they have to find someone really good to replace him. I don't think I can handle watching another losing season, I'm about ready to give up on them."

Jared shoved his shoulder, accepting the change in subject, and dropping the topic of Danneel. "Yeah right, you'd never give up on the Mustangs. You love them way too much, even if they can't win a game."

***

_July 4th_

Stumbling up the steps to his front door, Jensen tried to steady himself. He'd stayed out later than he'd planned and Dani was gonna be pissed at him—he really didn't care though. It was the Fourth of July and Jared had hosted a big barbeque to try and help everyone forget the dire state of the industry and economy, but Danneel had refused to attend. All their friends had been there and when everyone had been perfectly happy relaxing and having a few drinks, they'd decided to play a game of touch football.

That was one Jensen's favorite things about parties at Jared's—you never knew what could happen. He hadn't seriously played football since high school, but he loved to play with the guys whenever he had the chance. If he did say so himself he was still pretty damn good, so he certainly wasn't going to leave his friends and the game to go home to the sour face Danneel seemed to permanently have these days.

As he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door, a drunken giggle escaped him. He felt silly sneaking into his own house, and in his still drunken state he was imagining himself as a stealth ninja, easily evading trip wires and alarms.

It was a shock to fall into his living room and find it completely empty of furniture. Sobering quickly, he ran through the rooms on the first floor finding most of them completely bare with only small piles of his personal belongings left on the floor in each room.

In the bedroom, left next to where their bed used to be, was a note. _You'll never be anything. You'll never make anything of yourself. You'll never be anyone of importance."_

The paper crumpled in his hands as his fingers curled into fists. He picked up the nearest heavy object and threw it as hard as he could at the wall, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Bitch!"

He stumbled back, his shoulders colliding with the wall behind him and he slipped down to the floor, knees bent and head knocking against the smooth plasterboard. She'd finally left, he wasn't surprised, but he was shocked that it hurt this much. More than her leaving, her harsh words about his career—his life—cut deep. He may not have had a fantastically well-known career to this point, but he was proud of his work on Supernatural even if this endless strike forced its cancellation.

He glanced at the note, smoothed it out and carefully folded it before sticking it in his wallet. She was gone, but she wouldn't break him. He got up and started picking up his things she left tossed around the room.

***

He'd been hiding from his friends in the empty house for three days before Jared finally showed up on his doorstep. He considered not answering, but he knew Jared could see his car in the driveway and he wouldn't leave until Jensen opened the door.

When he swung the door open, he knew he looked like shit, but Jared didn't say a word until he walked into the living room and saw the empty room.

"She took everything! That bitch! Jen, most of that stuff was yours before you guys even got married. You can't let her just take off with your stuff."

He shrugged, apathetic. "I don't want it, Jare. Let her take it if she wants it, I don't need it." His gaze slid around the room and snorted. "I'd offer you a seat, but she took them all."

Jared stepped forward, manhandling him toward the stairs, an arm around his shoulders in more of hug than just guiding him forward. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and pack your stuff. You're going to stay with me for a while."

***

Jared had been keeping most of their friends away, until he was ready to see them. As much as he loved Chris, hearing him rant about what a bitch his soon-to-be-ex-wife was really wasn't what he needed to hear right now. Mostly, he'd been trying to figure out what to do with his life.

The long-standing writers’ strike had bled into an actors’ strike when the SAG contracts expired back in June and there was no writers’ contract in place as a template. The economy had officially gone into a recession and even though Jensen had always been careful with his finances, he wasn't going to sit around wallowing over his bank account and Danneel and their failed marriage forever.

He'd been sitting on Jared's deck drinking his second cup of coffee of the morning when his cell rang. Without looking at the caller id he answered. "'Lo?"

"Jensen, long time, no talk. How are you?"

"Mark?" It _had_ been a long time, but Jensen was sure it was his agent’s voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm calling because I think I have something that might interest you."

He could feel his brow crinkle in confusion, two cups of caffeine was not enough to bring him to full functionality. "Huh? Did I miss something, ‘cause I'm pretty sure we're still in the middle of a strike."

"Well this isn't really a scripted show."

He sat up straight. "What? No—I want to work, but I don't want to do Reality TV. I don't want to be the guy who eats worms or anything like that."

He could hear Mark shuffling papers on the other end. "It's not anything like that, I swear. You played football in high school, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well then, have you heard the announcement the new coach of the Mustangs made the other day? He put out an open call for team tryouts. He made this big deal about in order to get the Mustangs back on track he needed to find players with heart. Anyway, the point is there's a director, Michael Tollin, who is going to be filming the open tryout and anyone who gets an invite to training camp will be in a documentary to be streamed on his website. There's no script, no contract, you wouldn't be violating your SAG status, but if you made it through and the documentary gets released you'd get paid. And then of course there's the actual chance of making the Mustangs football team."

Mark paused and Jensen could hear him breathing through the phone. He didn't really know what to say.

"Anyway, I thought of you when I heard about the project, I remembered you talking about how you missed your high school football days and that you tried to play touch football whenever you could. I know this sounds crazy, but it's something. It's a chance to get out there and do something, it's a chance for a paycheck and right now not many people have that opportunity."

Everything Mark said _sounded_ good, but Jensen wasn't so sure. "Look, I'll have to get back to you. I'm not sure if this is something I'd want to do, but I promise to think about it."

"Okay, but don't think about it for too long, the open tryout is next week."

***

When Jared came home later that afternoon he had Chris in tow. Apparently, Chris had threatened to break into the house if Jared didn't let him see Jensen soon. Jared grabbed a few beers from the fridge and sprawled across the couch next to him, while Chris collapsed into the chair opposite them.

"It's good to see you, dude. Was gettin' a little worried when Jared had you holed up in here. Thought he might have finally lost all his marbles and had you locked away in the basement or something."

Jared flipped Chris off. "Dick."

"Really though, you okay?"

He sipped his beer, a lot of people had asked him that in the last few days—Jared, his mom, his dad, Josh—the thing was, he really was okay. "I'm fine, I mean, it's not like any of us didn't see it coming."

"Well then, son, stop holing up and come hang out with us, we can all enjoy being unemployed together."

He leaned into Jared's side a bit and ducked his head. "Um, well I might not be completely unemployed. My agent called me earlier today."

Both Jared and Chris's interest piqued and they looked at him, puzzled.

"It's not like a real job, job. It's more like an opportunity." He went on to explain about the tryout and the documentary, trying to gauge their reactions.

When he'd finished talking both Jared and Chris burst to life, talking at once.

"Oh my God, Jen, you have to do this. You'd be perfect."

"You love football and you're good. You'd totally have a shot. And it's the _Mustangs_ , dude you love the Mustangs."

Jared was jostling him so much he had to put his beer down on the table for fear it would spill all over him. He grabbed at Jared's wrists, laughing while holding his hands away. "I didn't say I was doing it. I said I'd think about it. I mean, come on guys, do you really think I'd have a shot? I'm thirty years old and haven't played anything resembling organized football in over ten years."

Chris sat forward, eyes serious. "Jen, you're good and in shape. You've got great speed. You absolutely should do this. Give it a shot, man. Really, what have you got to lose?"

Jared twisted his hand from Jensen's loosened grip and rested it on his knee, looking directly into Jensen's eyes. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, even if you don't make it past first round cuts, you can say you went out there and gave it your best shot. When are you ever going to get a chance to play in Wells Field— _Wells Field_? Buchanan, Armstrong, fucking Todd Carson have played on that field, how can you not try?"

Jared held his gaze and Jensen realized he was holding his breath. He breathed out and Jared looked away, the moment broken. He held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay. I'm not saying for sure, but I'll think about it. Seriously."

***

While Jensen thought about the Mustang tryout, he also dealt with Danneel and the lawyers. She'd been planning her exit for a while and already had divorce papers ready to be served as soon as she was out the door. She was being one ruthless bitch about their belongings she took and the house; Jensen just wanted to be done and rid of her, but he certainly wasn't going to roll over either.

He got his attorney to fight with her attorney over separation of property. If she wanted this divorce to go through quickly she was going to have to negotiate and return some of the property or pay Jensen for half its value. Luckily, Jensen had always been particular about their insurance and had the majority of their most valuable belongings assessed by an adjuster.

The biggest issue was the house. Danneel wanted to sell it. Jensen had the option to buy her out of her half, but he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to keep it. It was really too big for one person and he wasn't looking forward to going back there.

He'd just gotten off the phone discussing it with his attorney and was sitting in Jared's kitchen mulling over what to do. Jared surprised him when he sat across from him at the breakfast bar.

"I couldn't help overhear. You know you can stay here as long as you want."

He blinked, then smiled softly. "I know, but I don't want to impose. Me hanging around your bachelor pad has got to cramp your style."

Jared scoffed. "We've been friends forever, if I was worried about you cramping my style I would have stopped hanging out with you ages ago."

He flipped Jared off playfully. "Whatever, really though, I'll find my own place."

"Jen, it's not a problem. We've lived together before, we know it works. We'll set it up like back in Vancouver, you take the guest room down here and my office as your office. And I'll move my office to the small guest room upstairs. We'll split the bills; it makes sense, who knows when this strike will be over. You'd be helping me out."

He eyed Jared carefully, trying to gauge if he was just feeling sorry for him. He shook the thought from his head. Jared was his best friend, he would never offer if he was only trying to him feel better. The truth was he wanted to live with Jared, they'd been so close when they shared Jared's house in Vancouver and he missed that.

"Okay, let's do it."

The smile that lit up across Jared's face was more than enough reason to move in officially. Jared barreled around the breakfast bar to hug him. He sunk into it for a moment, relishing the comfort Jared’s body pressed to his provided, before shoving him playfully away.

"Ugh, it's gonna be like this all the time now, right? You laying your big body all over me. I changed my mind; I should find my own place."

Jared flicked his bicep, hard. "No way, you already said you're staying. Besides you love me and you know it. Now come walk the dogs with me, you've got to earn your keep around here."

Jared grabbed the dog's leashes from were they hung beside the back door and called out for Harley and Sadie.

***

Once he had his mind off his living situation all he could think about was the Mustangs tryout. Jared had hounded him the rest of the week, pushing and prodding—saying how good of an opportunity it was. It was really Jared that convinced him to go; Jared's how he wound up standing amongst hundreds of fans all enthusiastically ready to try out for the California Mustangs. When he saw the immense crowd he almost turned around and went home, but then he remembered Jared's reasoning, the look in his eyes when he talked about watching Jensen play.

It made him remember how much he really loved the game. And he couldn't deny the fact that he was more than a little interested in trying out and getting the chance to play with some his most favorite players.

Just getting onto the field was a trying process; there was paperwork to fill out and then the long line of people in front of him each taking a turn at doing sprints, throwing the ball, catching the ball, tackling each other.

For the second time that day, he almost turned around and went home, but just as he about the head for the parking lot his number was called. Taking a deep breath, he lined up with the other guys in his group for sprints.

He knew he could run, he did it all the time to keep in shape, he just didn't know if he still had the speed he had in high school. He watched as pairs of guys took off racing each other until it was finally his turn. He crouched, readying himself and at the staccato sound of the whistle—he took off. It was as if all the other people in the stadium disappeared and he was alone pushing himself to the finish line.

His thighs burned, he breathed heavy—in through his nose, out through his mouth. The noise rushed in around him as soon as crossed the finish line and he slowed to a stop—looking toward the offensive line coaches for any sort of clue as to how he'd done—however all they did was reset the stopwatch and write on their clipboards.

Even if the coaches didn't reveal anything, he knew he did well receiving the ball. Even with two guys trying to block him he caught every pass thrown to him. He wished Jared were here to see it—Jensen catching the ball on the 30 yard line of Wells Field. He'd seen the camera crew here for the documentary and Michael Tollin barking directions. There would probably be footage of him somewhere, but he wanted Jared to see it with his own eyes.

***

The coaches called an end to the tryout as the sun hung heavy in the western sky. It had been a long day and Jensen was exhausted. Even through his exhaustion he'd had a tiny bit of hope he'd make it past day one—however all that was said was that they'd be in contact with them soon.

He guessed the open tryout didn't quite work out how the new head coach had planned. After showering and changing in the locker room Jensen headed for his car. He was lingering in the tunnel leading from the stadium to the parking lot when he heard someone call out to him. Turning, he saw the new head coach jogging toward him.

"Wait up, hey wait up! Jensen Ackles, right?"

Stopping and hefting his bag higher up on his shoulder, he wondered if the coach could be a fan chasing him down like this.

"Yeah, I'm Jensen. What I can I do for you?"

The little guy wheezed a bit then caught his breath. "I guess you know who I am. Thought I'd introduce myself, Joe Miller. Former coach at UCLA and current Mustangs head coach who's lost his mind."

He smiled at the coach's attempt at humor and waited for him to continue.

"Can I ask how an actor can run faster than some of my players?"

"Uh,” He fumbled, not sure if the coach expected a serious answer. “Sir?"

The coach looked slightly surprised.

"You know you ran a 4.5 out there? You're good, better than anyone else that showed up today, maybe better than some of the rookies we invited to camp from Division One programs."

His stomach twisted, he couldn't be saying—

"What are you telling me, Coach?"

"Jensen, I'm telling you you've got an invitation to the Mustangs training camp. Starts August 1st, pack your bags you're coming with us."

***

He could hardly keep the smile off his face as he fired up the grill on Jared's deck. He'd taken out thick porterhouse steaks to thaw when he got home and was waiting for Jared to come through the door from wherever he'd gone off to, to tell him the good news.

He sipped from his beer bottle; Sadie lounged in the grass at the edge of the deck and Harley circled his feet looking for rogue bits of steak.

Biting his lip when he heard Jared call from inside the house, he waited for him to come out back.

The sliding glass door squeaked on its runner as Jared pushed it open. "You're grilling? We celebrating something?"

Turning from the grill, he couldn't hide his grin any longer. He smiled wide, knowing Jared would be able to read him immediately.

Jared's eyes widened. "No! Are you fucking serious?"

Jared barreled toward him, bending his knees so he could wrap his arms around Jensen's waist and lift him off his feet. "You made it!"

Jared boosted him up higher and whooped loudly, the dogs perking up and barking at the commotion.

It was the best reception Jensen could have gotten. He let Jared swing him around, not even fighting the tight hold his friend had on him. His grin was so wide it made his cheeks ache and he let Jared's excitement take him over. He punched his fist into the air and yelled along with Jared.

***

Later that night after many celebratory beers, Jensen found himself sprawled on Jared's oversized couch with a drunk Jared fitted next to him. It should have been awkward lying pressed against Jared, instead it was comforting. It was nice to have someone to share this with, even if the task ahead was much harder than what he'd gone through today.

He couldn’t remember Danneel ever just _being_ with him—quiet and supportive.

Jared rubbed his nose into the couch cushion and then turned his face to rest on Jensen's shoulder, eyelids heavy, but open. Jared lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingertips through his hair. "So proud of you, Jen. Knew you could do it."

He let his eyes slip shut, Jared still lightly twisting his fingers in his hair. He couldn't even begin to think about why this felt so good, so safe and let himself drift to sleep.

***

Over the next two weeks, Jensen trained, trying to get himself into shape. Jared ran with him every day, encouraging him when he needed it and outright badgering him when he didn't want to go on.

His joints ached and his muscles screamed at him, but when he arrived at camp on the first day of August he felt like all that work had paid off.

He wandered through the locker room looking at each stall whispering under his breath some of the names, Kelly, Rosenbaum, Welling. He found his own name in the middle of the second aisle. He touched it almost reverently; he really couldn't believe he was here.

***

The first day of camp did not go as smoothly as Jensen had hoped. The coaches put them through the wringer—calisthenics, running drills, passing drills, tackling drills. From that alone Jensen ached, but the bruising on his ribs was more from the pummeling he'd taken from the starting players.

With the documentary crew following his every move and the fact that he was an _actor_ that earned an invite to camp made the rest of the team more than a little tough on him. He endured hit after hit, until the coaches finally took pity on him.

By the end of the first practice Jensen was sure he'd be sent home before even being assigned a bunk.

He tried not to let his aches and pains show as he walked through the locker room, but upon reaching his stall he saw that the picture he'd taped up of he, Jared, Chris and Steve, had been torn in half.

His body hurt, but the laughter behind him made his blood boil. Turning swiftly, eyes blazing, he shoved at Tom Welling, standing behind him gleefully smirking. "What is your problem, asshole?"

Welling stepped forward, aggressive and angry. "My problem is with you, pretty boy, an actor with his camera crew coming in here like people are gonna take you seriously."

"Pretty boy? Are you fucking serious? Have you looked in a mirror? Don't you know you're known as the biggest pretty boy in football today? Get down off your high horse, douche bag. In case you didn't realize, this film crew would be here if it was me or Joe Schmoe off the street that got an invitation here. So don't go making this about that. Instead of worrying about me why don't you do something real out on that field, rather than coasting on your college career. That's long over."

Welling surged forward, arm raised, fist clenched—but the rest of the guys around him grabbed on and held him back. If the coaches caught wind of this they'd all be ridden hard tomorrow. Welling settled down, but didn't back away.

He poked Jensen in the chest, "Don't go thinking you're special or that we're gonna go easy on you. Watch your back."

Standing his ground, he shoved Welling's finger from his chest. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

***

When he finally got to his room, he found a kid probably barely out of college in the other bunk. He was average height, fairly muscular and had a face on him that should be on billboards for underwear ads rather than behind a face mask. And they thought _he_ was the pretty boy?

"Hey there." He extended a hand to shake. "I'm Jensen."

The kid gave him the stink eye and barely shook his hand. "Brock. And I know who you are; I’ve seen the advertisements for your little documentary."

Awesome, another person here who disliked him for something beyond his control.

"I led my team in running yards last season, so if you think just because you’ve got a film crew following you around you’re gonna slide into my position on the team you're mistaken."

He tried to quell the impulse to roll his eyes, but this was getting old fast. "Look, like I said in the locker room, it’s not _my_ documentary and the film crew didn't get me a spot here. The coach obviously saw something he liked or he wouldn't have asked me to camp. I expect to work my ass off while I'm here for that wide receiver spot, so if you want it you better bring what you've got to the field."

Brock's eyes squinted into thin slits and he glared at Jensen. "Whatever, just keep to your side of the room and I'll keep to mine."

Brock went back to unpacking his stuff, stalwartly ignoring him. Jensen dumped his bag to the floor and sat on his bed. So what if everyone hated him, he was here at Mustangs training camp—and that was the most important thing.

***

The next few days were rougher than Jensen ever imagined. No matter how fast he ran or how hard he played the rest of the players ran just as fast and played just as hard. He was bruised black and blue across his chest and fingers on both his hands were jammed and slightly swollen.

It didn't help that that Michael Tollin and his camera were constantly in his face. Most of the players steered clear of him and the camera; objecting to it being here at all. He ate on his own and trained on his own, but he couldn’t deny that he almost preferred it that way.

When Saturday came, he thought for sure he'd be called to Coach Miller's office and asked to turn in his play book. It was a valiant try, but his body was old and aching. Why keep him especially when he wasn’t being accepted by the rest of the team?

As the night grew darker—lights turning off up and down the hallway—without a summons to see the Coach, Jensen couldn't believe it. When Tollin, set up in a small room at the end of the hallway, told his cameraman to pack it in Jensen finally realized he'd made it past week one. He lay back in his bunk, listening to Brock's heavy breathing in the neighboring bunk, thinking Jared was going to be so proud of him.

***

When he finally woke on Sunday, their only day off, he was alone in the room. He roused his hurting body, stretched his sore muscles and immediately had to call Jared. He reached for his cell and hit Jared's speed dial.

"Hello. Jen? That you?"

Realizing that Jared had answered while he had zoned out, Jensen quickly spoke. "Jare, hey, I'm still here man."

Jared's excitement beamed through the phone. "Dude! That is awesome. I told you, you could do it. The first webisode goes live tonight on Tollin’s website. I’ve got my bowl of popcorn ready to watch.”

“Don’t you have better things to do besides watching me get knocked around by a bunch of guys bigger than me? You should go out and do whatever it is you do to pick up those twinky guys you like so much.”

“Aww honey, you know you’re my favorite twinky guy.”

“Shut up. I get enough of that here. Half the team’s calling me the pretty boy, when Welling and this rookie Kelly shouldn’t be talking at all. You’d love my roommate, Brock, you’d be drooling over his lips or something.”

Jared mumbled something on the other end of the line that he couldn’t quite hear. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, just talking to the dogs. So what are your plans for the rest of today?”

“I’m gonna sleep, man. I’m so tired you’re lucky I’m not having this conversation in my sleep.”

“Okay, then get some rest and I’ll talk to you later.”

Jensen hung up the phone and stretched out on his bed. He couldn’t believe he was still at training camp, if he was going to stay another week though he needed to rest his body. He rolled over and curled around his pillow and was back asleep in minutes.

***

Jensen didn’t think training camp could get any worse then the first week, but after the airing of the first installment of Tollin’s documentary online Sunday night things only got worse.

“Hey Rosey, better move out of the way. Here comes the movie star and his entourage. We wouldn’t want to cramp his style for the camera.”

With exaggerated movements, Welling and Rosenbaum stepped back as Kelly looked on with a smirk on his face.

Grimacing, he ignored the ribbing and tried to ignore the camera as well; knowing now that Tollin was playing up the animosity between the other players and himself, and made his way onto the field.

It seemed like in the short time the first bits of footage were up online, that all of California had watched Jensen get beat down and put down by his teammates and decided that he was their inspiration.

With the outpouring of support for Jensen already clogging both Tollin and the Mustangs’ websites, the other players were not happy.

The coaches had called special teams this morning, which either intentionally or unintentionally on their part put Jensen right in the line of fire.

Bending into position, he listened for the call and when the ball snapped he shot forward, trying to find an opening. Almost immediately, he was plowed into by Rosenbaum on his right and by someone he didn’t even see on his left.

He lay sprawled on the ground, his ears ringing and not a friendly hand in sight to help him up.

It went on like that all morning. He took hit after hit, but no matter how much his ribs ached he got up time and time again. He shoved and pushed relentlessly, until he got through the defensive line. Sometimes it was too late and the ball had already been passed, but he’d gotten through—he wasn’t face down in the dirt—and that’s what mattered to him.

***

Another week went by and Jensen avoided being cut again. He was getting used to the constant battering of his body, but he still ached with every movement.

He was walking back from the trainer’s room, having just taped his ribs once again, when he saw two of the defensive line coaches. They were talking about different players, when they mentioned Rosenbaum, his ears perked up.

“He may be one of the veterans, but he’s weak on his left side block. If he doesn’t shape up Miller is going to go with one of the rookies to start.”

Jensen pressed himself to the wall, letting them continue on without noticing him. It seemed that Rosenbaum wasn’t as safe in his spot as he thought.

***

As camp went on, more and more players disappeared. Jensen knew his time was coming.

“Jared, I’m telling you the last cuts are coming and I’ll be one of them. There’s no way they’re actually going to put me on the team.”

Jared’s voice was tinny through the phone, but he could hear his displeasure in the way he spoke about his chances for the team. “Jen, don’t sell yourself short. I’ve seen every bit of footage Tollin’s streamed online. You’re doing a better job than you think And everyone is behind you. If you would read what people are saying—they’re inspired. It’s more than just public interest; you’re giving them hope when everything else out there is going to shit.”

His chest tightened; he didn’t want to be an inspiration. He didn’t want to build up people’s hopes, when he knew this wasn’t going to be a success story. “Jared, I have to be realistic. I’m thirty years old and all I have is few years of playing high school ball under my belt. I just can’t see that being enough to get me a spot on the team.”

“Listen to me right now. Jensen, you’re my best friend and you can call me a girl for saying this. But I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

He let go of the breath he’d held in, hearing Jared say those things about him, made him feel like he could do anything. Jared believing in him so unconditionally made all the aches and pains worth it.

“I don’t know if I deserve that kind of belief, but I’ll try, Jare.”

***

The last week of training camp was especially tough because everyone was on edge—waiting for the last cuts to be made. Living these last weeks with Brock had been unpleasant to say the least, living with him these last few days had been unbearable. It was either he or Brock that was going to get the last wide receiver slot.

The kid was good—faster and younger—and he knew it.

Despite the encouraging phone calls from Jared, by the time the last day of camp came around, Jensen was sure he’d be cut.

He’s packed up his room and went to the last practice ready to turn in his play book.

Throughout the running drills, Jensen pushed as hard as he always did—unable to take it down a notch even on the last day. He wasn’t giving up, but he was resigned that this was his last day.

When practice was over, he sat on the bench in the locker room staring into his locker. He realized this would likely be the last time he'd wear his uniform and he was slow to remove the dirt-covered jersey that read ‘Ackles’ across the back.

His thoughts were interrupted by the offensive line coach. “Ackles, Coach wants to see you in his office.”

Sighing, he hung his jersey on the hook and grabbed his play book. He walked into Coach Miller’s office and sat in front of his desk, placing the book on the edge.

The Coach looked up from his writing. “We haven’t had much time to talk during your time here, but I wanted to tell you I know I made the right choice inviting you to training camp. You gave more on that field than anyone else out there.”

He ducked his head, blushing at the compliment that he didn’t even know he needed to hear. “Thank you, Coach. And I just wanted to say I’m honored to have had the opportunity.” He stood, pushing the play book across the desk and turned to leave.

“Ackles?”

Jensen turned back to see Coach Miller standing, holding out his play book. “You better take this with you, you’re gonna need it for the first road game next week.”

Stunned, he couldn’t move. Coach Miller gestured with the book again and finally he was shocked back into motion. He reached out and took the book. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Welcome to the California Mustangs, Jensen.”

Dazed, he stumbled from the office, completely by-passing Tollin and his camera—his only thought was he couldn’t wait to see Jared.

***

He had three days off between the end of camp and their season opening game on the road. He packed up his room, Brock already gone—having cleared out as soon as being told he’d been cut in favor of Jensen—and could think of nothing except getting home.

The first person he saw when he walked in the door was Jared—smiling wide, his dimples creasing deep in his cheeks. Beyond Jared stood Chris, Steve, Chad and about twenty-five other friends all grinning just as wide.

The group cheered and surged forward, all jostling for a hug or a congratulatory slap on the back.

Chris slung an arm across his shoulders. “I knew you could do it, Jen. No one can stop you when you put your mind to something. Here.” Chris handed him a beer. “Drink up; we’re celebrating you tonight, Jenny.”

He took a long slug from the beer bottle, savoring his first drink in over three weeks. “Thanks, man. And don’t call me ‘Jenny.’”

***

It was late and everyone had already gone home. He slouched in a deck chair, Jared in a chair next to him. “Thanks for the party; you didn’t have to do that.”

Jared’s features were soft with alcohol. “Of course I did, Jen, you just made the motherfucking California Mustangs, that deserves a party.”

He smirked, Jared was drunk. “I would have been happy just hanging out with you.”

“Aww, I knew you loved me.”

"Nah, I just feel sorry for you. Trying to give you a little pick me up hanging out with a football star."

Jared pushed up from his chair—much steadier on his feet than his slurred speech indicated. He grabbed a football that was lying on the ground and tossed it up in the air. "Well, if you're trying to make me feel better about my meager non-football star existence the least you could do is toss the ball around with me. Make me feel special."

Shaking his head at Jared, he stood and jogged out past where Jared stood. "Give it your best shot."

Jared pulled back his arm and threw a pretty decent spiral toward him. He backpedaled a few steps and caught the ball. Running toward Jared, he called out. "Ackles has the ball and he's headed for the touchdown."

Jared ran right for him and hit him around the waist, lifting him off his feet like a tackling dummy. "Padalecki gets the tackle!"

They fumbled backwards, Jared overcompensating for Jensen's weight and they tumbled to the ground. Jared sprawled across Jensen's body. Laughing heartily, Jensen could feel Jared's stubble scritch-scratch his cheek and then the hot press of Jared's dick to his thigh.

He froze and even to his own ears his voice sounded raw as he whispered, "Jared."

Pulling back instantly, Jared hovered between staying sprawled over Jensen's lap and fleeing. "Jen, I'm sorry— I would never— I never meant for you to know."

Stilling his hands over Jared's arms, he sat up. "Jared, just shut up." He rocked forward and brushed his lips over Jared's. It was awkward and off-balance. He'd caught the corner of Jared's mouth—shifting they slid together perfectly. His tongue slipped into Jared's mouth and Jared groaned into it.

His heart pounded on the inside of his rib cage, he was kissing Jared—his best friend, who obviously had feelings for him. His thoughts raced, panicked at what he was doing.

Pulling back he traced the pad of his thumb over the apple of Jared's cheek. "I've been so blind, haven't I?"

Jared continued dropping feather light kisses over his face. "I've been in love with you since the moment we met, Jen. You never would have seen a change in my feelings because they’ve always been there."

He swallowed thickly at Jared’s admission, it wasn’t like he never wondered what it would be like to be with Jared—it would have been hard not to with the way their fans talked about them—but he’d never really thought about it seriously. Here Jared was telling him he’d been in love with him since they met. How could he not have known? Taking in the Jared’s lowered eyes and the pink blush across his cheeks, Jensen thought maybe he felt the same way he’d just hadn’t known it.

He kissed Jared again softly—timidly. "I've never—I don't think I would ever feel like this for any other guy but you. All this time, I just thought the way you made me feel was because you’re my best friend, you're my family."

Turning his face so his lips brushed against Jensen's temple, Jared snorted softly. "I'll admit you are a little slow."

"Asshole. Now are you going to keep insulting me or kiss me again?"

Jared's mouth pressed over his as they fell back into the cool grass, evening shadows enveloping them as they kissed. He was scared shitless of what all this meant, but with the way Jared looked at him, Jensen couldn’t bring himself to care.

***

Jensen woke up the next morning wrapped in a cocoon of heat, Jared's body a furnace pressed to his back. He stilled himself, not wanting to break the spell around them, but his heart raced as the night before came rushing back. Jared rubbed his nose into the back of his neck and curled his arm tighter around his chest. "You freaking out?."

Tension pinched in his neck, there were so many things to worry about, but after a moment he realized while what he was feeling was new he wasn’t freaked out. Smiling into his pillow he mumbled. "No, I’m really not. I’m not going anywhere. You've got me till tomorrow afternoon when I have to be on the team bus for our first road game."

Jared was sucking lightly at the crook of his neck. "Good, now roll over so I can kiss you properly."

***

With all the press Tollin's webisodes were getting, the frosty reception he got when he arrived for the trip to Arizona was more than expected. With Brock cut from the team, when they arrived at the hotel in Arizona, Jensen was assigned a new roommate. He was less than thrilled to find Mike Rosenbaum in his room when he opened the door.

Mumbling under his breath, he voiced his displeasure. "Great, just what I need the night before my first game."

Rosenbaum looked up from where he lay on his bed. "I'm not thrilled with this either, buddy. So why don't we just stay out of each other's way and get a good night's rest."

Grunting his assent, Jensen went about getting himself settled. Once he was relaxed he watched Rosenbaum go about what was obviously his pre-game ritual. He was reviewing his play book and reading notes he'd made to himself about each play.

Something he mumbled to himself about a particular play reminded Jensen of what he'd overheard the coaches talking about back during training camp.

Taking a chance, he spoke. "You know you should watch yourself on that play, your left-side block is weak."

Mike glared at him—eyes hard and mean. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

He held up his palms in surrender. "Look, I overheard the coaches talking about it. I'm just trying to help you out. You know just because I have a different background than the rest of you, doesn't mean I'm any less committed to this team."

Rosenbaum was silent, staring down at the book in his lap. He stood and Jensen shifted back on his bed, unsure of what he was doing. He crouched into his stance, right foot slightly in front of the left, and his left hand fingers pressed to the floor. "You see my knuckles? What color are they?"

Thoroughly confused at the question, Jensen glanced down. "They're white."

"Right, that's because my weight is shifted forward and I'm going to push off with my right foot to run toward you. Now look again." He crouched again, this time there was no pressure on his knuckles and they stayed pink.

Springing up, Rosenbaum fell back, shifting as if he were to run back.

Jensen stared for a second, Mike didn't elaborate any further and went back to reading his playbook, but Jensen guessed he didn't need more right now. It was a start, and he could only hope he could get some of the other players not to see him as the enemy either.

***

Jensen was up early the next morning; unable to sleep knowing thousands of people were going to be watching him play today. If he screwed up it couldn't be edited out by Tollin, everyone in the stadium and everyone watching at home would see him.

He arrived at the locker room early—dressed and ready before anyone else even arrived—trying to keep his nervous energy at bay.

It didn't help that wherever he tried to catch a moment alone, Tollin's camera found him.

As they lined up to make their entrance, his stomach roiled—this whole situation suddenly got very real. He steeled his nerves though when he caught Welling smirking at his obvious discomfort.

He could do this, he'd been on television before, he just had to pretend like this was live theater and roll with it.

The game started off well, the Mustangs scored a touchdown in the second quarter, but they were not able to stop Arizona from scoring in the third.

The game was tied in the fourth as the clock ticked down. When Coach Miller called for Jensen to go in, he nearly froze in place. Quickly recovering he ran out on the field, and there was a surge in the cheers from the crowd as people recognized him from Tollin's webisodes.

They drove down the field, and at third and eight—they needed this down or else their chance to score was gone—a passing play was called to go to Jensen.

His palms were sweating and his knees felt like Jell-o. The ball went into play and Jensen took off running.

He dodged his initial blocker and headed to open field to make the catch, but unfortunately he didn't see the second blocker heading his way and just as the ball touched his fingertips he was slammed into from behind and knocked to the ground—the ball flying from his grasp.

A player from the other team recovered the ball after his fumble and that was it—they lost possession of the ball and with less than a minute left in the quarter it was all over.

***

The game was over and Jensen was devastated, not only had they lost, but _he_ had lost the game for them. He dragged himself into the locker room, ready to face the ridicule.

As to be expected almost immediately Welling was in his face. "Looks like you choked, pretty boy. Your whole fan club finally saw what a phony you are. We'll see how much they love you now. Sports fans are fickle, when you're winning they love you, when you're losing they're as vicious as rabid dogs."

Jensen stepped forward to give Welling a piece of his mind, but instead Rosenbaum stepped between them laying a hand across Welling's chest. "Back off, Tom. Like you've never fucked up out there. Jensen didn't lose the game for us, we're a _team_ out there. We all lost that game. So why don't you lay off him and think about all the incomplete passes you threw tonight."

His mouth dropped open, as he stood in shock at having a teammate defend him. It didn't change how badly he felt for missing the pass, but it went a long way to making him feel more welcome on the team.

***

Jared was waiting for him when he returned from the road game. He hadn't been able to sleep much on the trip home and he was bone tired. All he really wanted to do was crawl into bed with Jared and sleep.

Hours later, after having slept like the dead, he woke to Jared bringing him dinner. "I ordered Chinese. I hope that's okay."

Sitting up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed blindly for the carton of delicious smelling food. "You're so good to me."

Jared sat Indian-style at the end of the bed, slurping lo-mein noodles. "Chris called, he wants you to call him back. He said specifically, 'to get the fuck out of bed, lazy ass, and call him.'"

He snorted, "Sounds like Chris."

They ate in silence for a moment, than Jensen asked. "So how bad is it? Are they crucifying me on the 'net?"

Jared looked up from his food, a smile on his face. "Are you kidding? They're totally rooting for you. You've given them something to care about when there isn't much good out there right now and one dropped pass isn't going to change that."

Setting his food on the bedside table, Jared crawled toward him on the bed. Jared lifted the food carton from his hands, setting it next to his own, and leaned in to kiss him. He still wasn’t used to the feeling of Jared kissing him; Jared tasted of greasy Chinese noodles and pork, but Jensen didn't care. He slid back, letting Jared hover over him, pressing him into the mattress.

"You've got to start believing what everyone else sees when they watch you. You did something very few people could have done. It inspires people. You inspire me."

He stared into Jared's eyes so close to his face; the intensity he saw there was almost too much. He should be thinking about what went wrong in the game and what he could do to fix it before the next, but all his thoughts were of Jared. "Yeah? What do I inspire you to do?"

A slow, sly grin spread over Jared's face. He pressed his hips down and Jensen could feel the hard bulge of Jared's cock.

"You inspire me to do a lot of things." Jared kissed him—wet and sloppy, teeth nipping at his lower lip.

He groaned loudly; and unconsciously thrust his hips up, begging for more. "Jared, please."

Jared groped at his boxers pushing them over his hips and down his legs. His cock ached to be touched, but Jared ignored it in favor of kissing his way down his chest—smoothing the pads of his fingertips over his ribs and down to the sharp points of his hip bones.

His breath heaved as Jared dropped kisses down his chest, teased his navel with his tongue and pressed his nose into the trail of fine golden hairs that lead to his cock. Finally—finally—Jared took his cock into his mouth. He moaned—ragged and raw—never having known it could be this way.

Jared licked and sucked; he felt like he had little electrical currents running under his skin. He twisted his fingers in the soft hair behind Jared's ears. "Jared, Jared, Jared."

When Jared sucked harder and pulled him deeper into his mouth, he couldn't stop himself—without much warning he came down Jared's throat. His whole body sang with released tension.

Jared crawled over him—grinning bright and wide. "You liked that, huh?"

He couldn't be bothered with being embarrassed. "Shut up and come 'ere."

Hesitantly, he slipped his hand into Jared's pajama pants and wrapped his hand around Jared's cock, hard and damp. He’d never touched another man like this, but because it was Jared it felt almost natural. His strokes increased with surety, watching the pupils in Jared's eyes blow open and the ring of blue-green shrink. Jared thrust his hips and Jensen squeezed tighter, flicking his thumb over the leaking slit at the tip. He watched as Jared's whole body stuttered as he came, spurting hot and wet onto Jensen's belly.

Seeing Jared come was better than anything else on the planet and he wanted to make it happen over and over again. Jared sunk down onto him, his pounding heart beat echoing into Jensen's chest as he settled over him—head resting next to his on the pillow.

"Love you so much—I never thought I'd get to have this."

Shifting to find a more comfortable position, he traced his fingers down the long muscles of Jared's back. "Well, now you're not getting rid of me."

***

The home opening game was looming ahead. His nerves were shot, worrying over everything, not just how he'd play, but that Jared and all their friends would be at the game too.

He sat in the locker room, the noise and bustle around him insignificant as he stared down at the slip of paper he had in his hands. It was the note Danneel left him, heavy black ink forming her jagged scrawl, telling him he'll never be anybody or make anything of himself.

Anger flooded his veins that he ever let her get to him the way she did. He crumpled the paper and tossed it to the floor.

Jared, his friends, all those people out there that were rooting for him—that meant something. Even if he never played again, even if he never acted again—he knew that didn't mean he was nobody. He was somebody because he had people that cared about him, that loved him and that was what made him want to go out on that field and be the best he could be.

The Coach spoke, encouraging them all and Jensen listened. It was heart that would win this game, not just talent and ability—and that was what he took onto the field with him.

***

The clock ticked down, every second mocking him as the score remained tied. He was playing harder than he ever had before, but right now if they lost the ball the other team would have enough time to try and score again.

He took his position on the line of scrimmage, the ball was snapped and the opposing team drove at them, pushing them back into their own territory. He was frustrated and losing his cool. If the Wildcats scored again there wouldn't be enough time on the clock for the Mustangs to tie it up.

Again he took his stance, the player across the line right in his face, breathing hard and grunting. Glancing down he saw the man's fingers planted into the grass—his knuckles white.

It took a moment, but what he was seeing in front of him finally registered—he knew what those white knuckles meant—Mike had showed him back in Arizona and he knew now what kind of play the Wildcats were calling. Without really thinking he called out to his teammates, changing their play at the last minute.

His teammates scrambled as he kept yelling the new play. The play clock clicked down and with only a second to spare the ball was snapped. Charging forward, he easily evaded his blocker. He sprinted down field—his muscles burning with adrenaline and fire pumping in his veins.

Upon reaching open field he turned, searching for Welling, he saw him the same moment Tom saw him open. Without hesitation he threw a beautiful spiral, it spun in the air as it hurtled toward Jensen's waiting hands. The moment his fingers touched the pigskin, he tucked the ball into the crook of his arm and took off again. He had Wildcats on his tail chasing him down, but he tuned them and everything else in the stadium out.

His knees pumped high as he barreled down the field toward the end zone, his lungs burned as he focused on getting to the goalpost at the end of the field. He could almost hear in his head the tally of yards, 'Ackles at the 30, the 20, the 10, touchdown, touchdown.'

The stadium erupted around him as he realized he'd crossed into the end zone. His heart was pounding and he was clutching the ball like his life depended on it. Finally, his teammates joined him in the end zone and the realization that he'd scored the winning touchdown hit him.

He was hoisted up on someone's shoulders and the crowd pounded their feet in the bleachers. Pulling off his helmet, he looked up into the stands finding the general area in which he knew Jared, Chris and the rest of his friends were sitting and pointed at them, so they knew this was all for them.

***

Jensen played the rest of the season; though scoring the winning touchdown in the opening game was the highlight of his time with the Mustangs. The writers’ strike came to an end, followed shortly by the SAG strike and he made the decision that acting was where his passion lie.

Hollywood went back to work almost immediately, pushing out new pilots and movies. Jared got a lead role on a new FOX drama that yielded awesome ratings. Chris got a full-time acting job as well, on a show produced by someone impressed with work on the pilot that had been cancelled during the strike. Michael Tollin's documentary was wildly successful in webisodes and was released as a full-length documentary. Audiences came out in droves to watch a relatively unknown actor's rise to football stardom.

After taking a few months off following the end of the Mustangs regular season play, Jensen was inundated with both movie and television scripts. He passed on several scripts that wound up being box office hits before taking the role of Captain America in Marvel Comics next comic book-based movie series.

When filming finally came to an end on the movie, Jensen was looking forward to some time off at home with Jared.

Kicking his sneakers off by the front door, he headed to the kitchen for water. "Jared, you home? Jared!"

Wiping the sweat from his brow he headed to their room, looking forward to a nice hot shower and maybe a nap. Pushing the bedroom door open, he was confronted with the sight of Jared—sprawled across their bed—completely naked.

He froze where he stood, eyes locked on the gorgeous sight in front of him. His breath was stilted, but he managed to sputter out, "Jared? What—?"

Jared sat forward in the bed, smiling seductively. "Roll your tongue back into your head and come over here."

Stumbling over his feet, Jensen propelled forward, stripping his sweaty t-shirt off as he went. He crawled onto their bed, tracing the tips of his fingers up the long length of Jared's muscular calf. "If this is what I'll come home to every time I go for a run I'll be needing new sneakers because I suddenly feel like I'll be going for runs every day, sometimes several times a day."

He kissed Jared—solid and sure—his hands settled over Jared's ribs, making small circles on his taut skin.

Breaking the kiss, Jared grinned wide, his slightly crooked incisor tooth showing. "If you think I'm going to lie around naked waiting for you all the time you've got another thing coming. Today's special."

Jensen's hands stilled on Jared's sides and he sat back on his heels. "Did I forget—? No, I know it's not my birthday and yours just passed. What's today?"

A flush rose on Jared's cheeks, that had little to do with Jensen straddling his thighs, and he lowered his eyes. "You'll think it's silly."

Shifting so he was pressing his body to the length of Jared's, he quickly kissed him, then propped his chin on Jared's chest. "No I won't, tell me. I want to know so I know what warrants this kind of reception."

Jared wrapped his arms around the small of Jensen's back, pulling him in tight. He could feel the hot press of Jared's cock against his belly.

"It was a year ago that you agreed to live here. I was so nervous when I suggested it, but when you said 'yes' I was the happiest I'd been in a long time. When I think of how this all started, that's the day I think of."

Looking at Jared, his hair tousled, his cheeks flushed with color, he couldn't imagine not living with him. He turned his face so his cheek pressed over Jared's heart. He traced his left index finger over Jared's nipple, causing a sharp intake of breath.

"You know you're a big giant girl, right?" He kissed the soft patch of skin at the base of Jared's throat. "But I love you anyway."

Their breathing was almost in perfect sync and they both sighed in contentment, enjoying a long moment of just being. Then Jared grabbed at Jensen's sides, digging his fingers into Jensen's stomach—tickling him.

Laughter echoed loudly in the room as they both twisted and shuffled on the bed.

"Get over here! I'll show you—big girl—I don't think so!"

Laughter bubbled out of him, as he batted at Jared's hands. Jared's hair stuck out in all directions and he flipped them so he knelt over Jensen. His eyes were bright and filled with mirth as he lifted the sheet over them and cocooned them in darkness.

Jensen didn't need to see for his lips to find Jared's—they giggled like schoolgirls and kissed each other's breath away.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This may seem like it's non-AU, but while Jared, Jensen and Supernatural are based in the canon you know, many of the RPF characters you may recognize are not the traditional characters you are familiar with.
> 
> A/N 2: Many thanks to [](http://strippedpink.livejournal.com/profile)[**strippedpink**](http://strippedpink.livejournal.com/) and [](http://users.livejournal.com/__tiana__/profile)[](http://users.livejournal.com/__tiana__/)**__tiana__** for betaing. They both were encouraging and gave me valuable suggestions.
> 
> A/N 3: Based on the Disney movie _Invincible_ and written for [](http://j2-everafter.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://j2-everafter.livejournal.com/)**j2_everafter**.


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